


Missed connections

by katerbees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Halloween at 221B - A Sherlolly Celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katerbees/pseuds/katerbees
Summary: Three years of Halloweens following Sherlock and Molly throughout the series.





	Missed connections

Halloween 2 years ago

Halloween parties for adults; Idiotic and boring. Sherlock found himself tagging along with the Watsons to the get together at Lestrade’s flat. Clearly this was an attempt by the Detective Inspector to flirt with as many women as possible, with the intent and hope of them being both scantily clad and prepared to imbibe in some alcoholic beverages. Any idiot could deduce that. And yet, here were John and Mary dressed as a devil and an angel, happily chatting along in their newlywed bliss. They walked up the stairs, following the din of loud music up to the second story.

John pushed open the door to the party, music filled the hallway. The three of them entered Greg’s dimly lit apartment, blacklights and spooky mood lighting filled the living room and kitchen. They saw Greg across the room, he began to walk over.

“Hey! Glad you all could make it!” He yelled as he closed the distance between them. He was dressed in all black, with a black mask over his eyes. “Drinks are in the kitchen as well as some snacks, there’s some non-alcoholic beverages as well, Mary” Greg said, indicating slightly to Mary’s baby bump.  
“Thanks Greg!” Mary shouted  
“What are you supposed to be, exactly?” John asked, sniffing and pursing his lips in a question.  
“You can’t tell?” Greg asked, wide eyed.  
The three of them just stood there.  
“Really” Even the world famous consulting detective can’t deduce a simple Halloween costume?!” Greg continued with a laugh.  
“You look like an idiot.” Sherlock retorted.  
“’I’m a burglar. Come on, really?” Greg looked between the faces of his three friends. “Can’t you tell? The Mask, the dark clothing? Come on!”  
“When on earth have you ever caught a burglar dressed up like that?” Sherlock asked.  
Greg pondered for a moment. Actually, now that Sherlock had mentioned it…A small smile formed on Sherlock’s face. Right once again.  
“Well that’s beside the point. Vivianne!” Lestrade interrupted to talk to a woman dressed in a very short flapper style costume that had just walked by. “Alright folks, help yourselves, see you around, thanks for coming!” Greg took his leave of them, following the leggy brunette into the living room.  
“Well that’s always fun. Any bets on where she came from?” Mary asked; a smirk on her face, always up for a deduction challenge.  
“Best friend of a former babysitter. Five years ago it would have been scandalous for him to find her attractive, but now she’s 21 and while still a little untasteful, perfectly legal. “ Sherlock stated confidently.  
“I was going to just say Call girl” Mary smiled widely, John began laughing.  
Sherlock smiled. This was the closest he could remember to ever actually feeling happy. Sure, he felt content most days. He enjoyed his work and he was very good at it. Financially, if there was anything he wanted, he could afford it. His parents were alive, and Mycroft, while meddlesome, was a good brother. And yet. Events like this always left him feeling out of sorts. Something was missing. He always felt on the outside looking in at these parties. Even at John and Mary’s wedding he was fine, he had made it through the day, and then after the reception speech it became painfully obvious to him that once again, he did not fit in. 

Oh well. Such is the price of brilliance, he thought to himself. John and Mary had wandered over to the kitchen, in search of a quieter space and some refreshments for Mary’s constant low-level nausea. Something bright and yellow caught his eye. It was coming closer to him  
“Hello Sherlock!” The yellow thing spoke to him. He realized, slowly moving his eyes from the big picture to the smaller details that this yellow item was a woman. Molly Hooper.  
“Molly.” He replied.  
“Where’s your costume?” Molly asked. She didn’t really think Sherlock would ever wear a costume, but where was the fun in teasing him.  
“I’m a murder victim.” Sherlock replied without missing a beat. Sherlock leaned in to her for emphasis. “Could be any one of us. At any time.”  
“Well, I suppose you have already been dead a time or two.” Molly responded with a smile. She loved their banter. She wasn’t able to joke with most people about death, but with Sherlock, at least that part of their relationship had always been easy.  
“And what exactly are you?” Sherlock asked, gesturing up and down to her yellowness.  
“Really Sherlock? Famous consulting detective and you don’t know what this is?” Molly asked in disbelief.  
“Why does everyone keep saying that!” Sherlock exclaimed. Costumes were so stupid. Really, he should be pointing out how ridiculous everyone there looked and especially how unattractive Molly looked in that Baggy yellow banana colored costume. Oh. “A banana. “ Was all Sherlock said.  
“Very good. Yes. It made much more sense when Tom was dressed up as well. He was a monkey.”  
“Monkeys don’t prefer bananas to any other specific fruit. As one of our closest dna relatives, they have a varied taste in foods much like we do.” Sherlock responded.  
“Yeah, well, it’s a societal trope, so it works well for a recognizable costume. Besides, they were buy one get one half off.” Molly responded. She was starting to sound snippy.  
“Where is Tom?” Sherlock didn’t know why he asked. It’s not like he cared where Meat dagger was, who everyone knew was just a weak imitation of Sherlock.  
“Oh. Um. We got into a bit of a row.” Molly wrung her hands at that. She was still wearing her engagement ring, Sherlock observed. But she was fidgeting with it now. He stood there actively trying not to deduce his friend. He expected her to elaborate but she looked up, past Sherlock, through the doorway. “Isn’t that the woman from John and Mary’s wedding?” She asked.  
“Hmm?” Sherlock asked as he turned his head. But in that nanosecond he knew exactly who she was talking about. This was not how he wanted Molly to find out. Or Greg. Or anyone really.  
“The pretty one. She was the maid of Honor.” Molly finished, her cheeks becoming hot.  
“Hey Sherl!” Janine yelled over the music. She was dressed in a skin tight olive green dress, with fairy wings attached in the back. It clung to her curvy body in such a way that every man and several women at the party stopped to appreciate her figure. She was indeed, a very grown up Tinkerbell. She flashed a giant smile and strode confidently over to Sherlock. “Mrs. Hudson told me you’d be here. Naughty boy trying to run off to a party without me.” She grabbed Sherlock by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss.  
Now Molly’s cheeks were on fire. She had to get out of there. She looked like an idiot wearing a giant banana suit while the man she was in love with, no used to be in love with, was being kissed by a beautiful woman. She needed air.  
“I need to leave” she murmured quietly and made her way to the bathroom. Janine and Sherlock had been standing between her and the exit. She would need to bide some time in here until she could sneak out. She tried to focus her thoughts on something, anything else. She felt her phone vibrate.

I don’t think there is much left to discuss. It’s not fair to either of us to continue this if your heart is not really in it. I respect you very much and while I will be sad to be losing one of my best friends, I think it is what needs to be done. I will be by on Monday to get the rest of my stuff while you are at work. If you want, I can leave the key and lock the door after myself or I can bring it to you in the morgue. I don’t want to drag this out any more than it already has been---xxxTom

FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK. Why. Why did this shitstorm all hit at once. Tom had accused Molly of still being in love with Sherlock earlier that day. And she couldn’t deny it. She told Tom that she didn’t want to be in love with Sherlock. But that part of her probably always would be. She had also told Tom that even though she might have those feelings, nothing would ever happen between the two of them because Sherlock was married to his work. Tom had said that he understood that, but if that was true, she needed to no longer be friends with Sherlock. It was too much of a temptation. Molly had stood there for what seemed like ages after Tom had said that to her. She felt her heart being torn into pieces. And as she spoke her next words, she very well knew that they would likely lead to the end of the closest she had every felt to being a nice, normal, happy woman. She had told Tom she couldn’t stop being Sherlock’s friend. And with that, Tom had left to get some air. Molly had decided to still come to the party because dwelling on it would do no good. And she had already told her friends she would go and she didn’t want to let Greg or Mary down.  
And now, here she was, crying in the bathroom. Sherlock wasn’t married to his work. Sherlock didn’t “not do relationships.” He just didn’t want her. He wanted someone like Janine. Even though Molly had risked everything for him. Her career, and her relationships with her other friends. Fuck. Molly felt like an idiot. A dumb idiot wearing a banana suit, whose fiancé had properly broken up with her because she wouldn’t unfriend a man who was out there frenching Janine. FUCK. Molly was shaking with sadness and anger. She heard a knock at the door. “Occupied!” She yelled.  
“Is that Molly? It’s Mary. I’ve got a baby pressing on my bladder, could you be a dear and hurry!” Came the voice on the other side of the door.  
“Oh, yes of course!” Molly yelled, still sniffing. She opened the door. Mary took one look at her.  
“Oh honey. It’s alright.” Mary shut the door behind her and let Molly cry it out for several minutes until the next person knocked on the door. Mary knew why Molly was crying. Anyone who had watched the Molly-Sherlock saga unfold would have known why she was crying. Mary didn’t even know that Molly’s engagement had just ended. So much heartache in one tiny bathroom.  
“I just want to go home.” Molly kept saying as Mary stroked her hair.  
“Alright love, I’ll go out with you and get a cab and we’ll have you on the way.” Mary reassured.  
“But I don’t want him to see this.” Molly ugly cried, gesturing to herself.  
“No no, of course not, just stay by the bathroom door, I’ll fill Jon in on a little bit of it, I’ll just say you’re feeling ill from the drinkies if that’s ok.”  
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Molly responded, wiping her snot all over her yellow costume. She would burn this damn thing.  
The two women opened the door to let another party guest use the loo. Mary went off to find her husband and Molly did her best to blend in to the darkness and try her best not to see Sherlock and Janine. Which was really hard to do. Ever since she had met the man, she instinctively looked for him.

Mary was back in a flash, John by her side. “Sorry, love, this one’s being all overprotective on account of me being knocked up” she gave John a wink. “Plus, we’re tired as well so we’ll just split a cab”  
Molly weakly smiled, grateful Mary had made her excuses for her.  
“Yeah, well, it’s not like that git needs us. Lestrade can’t stop staring at Janine and ‘Sherly,’ I think he might actually be jealous. Though I’m not sure of which one.” John mused, entertaining himself.  
A new batch of tears appeared on Molly’s face, she put her head down to avoid John’s gaze. But it was too late. John was a smart man. He saw in an instant what his words had done, and in those few tears, John had seen everything. He pretended not to notice. However, he met Mary’s glare with an ‘I’m sorry’ expression on his face. Mary raised her eyebrows, looked in Sherlock’s direction and rolled her eyes. They continued their silent facial conversations that are reserved for best friends and married people all the way to the cab. Molly cried silent tears the whole way home, Mary held her hand and didn’t say a word.  
\------------------------------------------  
Later that night

Sherlock lay on the couch. He continued to replay the events from earlier that evening in his mind palace.  
Things had been going well with Molly. He had resisted the urge to say every snarky thing that came to his mind, a skill he had been working on since meeting John a few years earlier. She had appreciated his dark humor and they had even engaged in some anthropological banter. Yes, talking to Molly had become a highlight of Sherlock’s day this past year. And she had just been discussing why Meat Dagger wasn’t there when Janine, his internal monologue spat the voice out, dripping with irritation, had shown up.  
He couldn’t fault Mrs. Hudson for telling her where he had gone. She had introduced herself as his girlfriend and Mrs. H had been so ecstatic she had dug out one of her old showgirl outfits, shoved it into Janine’s hands, and got her a cab straight away, while grinning from ear to ear. When he and Janine arrived home from the party, Mrs. Hudson had sat out a fresh plate of tea and biscuits and had given Sherlock a knowing wink. She didn’t know anything.  
Sherlock took a deep breathe in and out at that thought: No one knew anything. His mind traveled back to the party.  
Before Sherlock could respond to Molly, Janine pulled him in for a kiss and an embrace. Sherlock had to let her do it. She was his girlfriend, at least until he took care of Magnussen. No matter what his personal inclinations might have been, catching CAM was the end goal and Sherlock was willing to do whatever it took to achieve it. Even if that meant sending Molly Hooper running into the bathroom crying.  
He didn’t quite understand why. She was with Tom. Sherlock had come back from the fall a changed man. A man that thought he might even be able to engage in mundane tasks like being Molly’s…someone. But she had moved on. He was happy for her. He really was; she was a good woman and deserved someone who could make her happy. Even if that someone, wasn’t him. However, he knew that she still fancied him. He also knew that she wished she didn’t. Such obvious sentiment. And even though Sherlock despised sentiment, he would never fault Molly for having it.

“Janine.” Sherlock responded, ending the kiss as he returned the embrace. “What a surprise to see you here.”  
Greg stood there with his jaw on the ground, gaping like an idiot.  
“Uh..” He began  
“Oh stop it Gerald, no one wants to hear you.” Sherlock cut him off.  
“Sherl!” Janine playfully swatted his chest. “So rude. You’ll have to excuse him” Janine giggled, her arm still around his waist. This only made Greg even more confused and flummoxed.  
“So, you’re uh…I recognize you from the wedding.” Greg attempted to speak  
“Uh yeah. Sherl’s girlfriend now. So lovely to meet you again.” Janine flashed her beautiful smile.  
Sherlock’s eyes scanned the room while these idiotic pleasantries continued to be made. Anderson and Donavan had joined at some point in time, no doubt in order to satisfy their curiosity about who had decided to accompany the “freak” and if he had paid for the woman’s company. His eyes found the banana. Molly was intentionally trying to make herself smaller, and trying to stare at the wall. She was crying. Sherlock felt his breathe catch in his throat. This hadn’t been how he wanted the night to go. Indeed. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to go: a means to an end. Everything he did was always for a higher purpose. The game was always on. Every game he played had collateral damage. It had been John and Mrs. Hudson for two years, and now, it would be Molly.  
He saw Mary and John walk over to her; John made a joke while gesturing towards him. Molly’s body betrayed her as a small sob shook her and she looked down. Mary gave john an incredulous look, and then rolled her eyes at Sherlock. The two of them put their arms around Molly and began to shepherd her out.  
Sherlock pulled Janine in tight and bowed his head to kiss her. He didn’t want her to see Mary and start a conversation. Even though he was a heartless bastard, he still wouldn’t do more damage to Molly than he had already done.  
The rest of the party was a blur. The only reason Sherlock had attended was to hang out with John and Mary and talk to Molly. Now that they were all gone, there was no reason to stay.

Sherlock heard his bedroom door open and Janine padding down the hallway.  
“Sherl?” she whispered, “you coming o bed?”  
And Sherlock did what he often did on the nights Janine insisted on sleeping over; he pretended to already be asleep. Janine covered him with a blanket.  
“Good night Sherl” she saidm and kissed him on his forehead, running her fingers through his hair.  
Sherlock realized then that he didn’t deserve either one of those women.  
\-------------

Halloween 1 year ago

Molly adjusted her wig. Damn thing was so itchy. She had decided to take Rosie over to see Mrs. Hudson and have some photos taken of the two of them dressed up. She hoped she would not run into Sherlock while she was there; he was in no state fit to be around a child. He had turned into a goddamned smackhead idiot since Mary had passed. Molly had begged him to stop, had cried and cried, but of course all he said was “’It’s for a case,” and walked away from her.  
You can’t help a person who doesn’t want to be helped, Molly thought, bouncing Rosie from one hip to the other. Molly spent most of her time these days at Bart’s, and John’s flat these days. While she had certainly meant the vows she had taken as a godmother, she hadn’t anticipated needing to fulfill them so intensely. She had come to love Rosie with her whole heart. She knew she could never fill the void of Mary, but she knew she would always be there for the little girl, no matter what.  
She exited the tube, feeling slightly ridiculous in her costume. However, many women stopped to tell her how cute she and her daughter looked in their coordinating costumes. Molly corrected the first couple of people of people, “Oh, thank you, she’s my Goddaughter” but quickly gave up and just accepted the compliments, while sending a silent prayer up to Mary to forgive her.  
She found her way to Baker Street and knocked on the black door. Mrs. Hudson answered.  
“Oh Molly! Rosie! So good to see my girls!” She yelled, pulling them in to the flat. “Now I’m so sorry dear, but I have no idea quite exactly what you two are supposed to be.”  
“Well,” Molly began excitedly, “I’m Elsa” she gestured to her long white braided wig like it was supposed to be a dead give-away, “and little miss Rosie is Anna.”  
“And who are those people? You both look adorable. But I have no idea what that means.”’ Mrs. Hudson replied, taking Rosie from Molly’s arms.  
“It’s from a Disney movie. Super popular right now.” Molly smiled. Sitting down her tote bag, full of diapers, milk, and toys.  
Molly heard shouting from up above. “No…” she groaned. She thought to herself, but apparently the words had left her mouth without her noticing.  
“Oh yes. He’s on about something again. Hasn’t eaten for days. I think he might be on those drugs again. I keep telling him, chasing Mary, God rest her soul, to the grave isn’t going to bring her back.” Mrs. Hudson instinctively tightened her hold on Rosie, who was now trying to play with Mrs. Hudson’s necklace. “No no my darling, here let’s find a nice stuffy for you to play with.” Mrs. Hudson moved towards a basket she kept filled with toys.  
Molly worried her lip. She was so over Sherlock and his stupid bullshit. But she was his friend and she still worried about him. Especially since him and John were still on the outs. She sighed.  
“I’m going to go up and check on him. Milk and diapers are in the bag.” Molly said.  
“Oh thank you. I’d really appreciate that Molly, you know he is so fond of you. Even if he doesn’t show it. I can tell. Here, take this tray of biscuits and see if you can trick him into eating some.” She handed Molly a tray that had been sitting on the kitchen table. “Me and miss Rosie here will just be reading this nice book”  
Molly took the tray and headed up the stairs. Her mind wandered back to Halloween last year. She had gotten dumped, and Sherlock had been making out with some poor girl that he was using to get to a psychopath. He really was an asshole. And here she was, one year later, once again in a costume, getting ready to have her dignity torn to shreds. She just knew it. He was in such a bad place mentally and physically right now. She braced herself for a verbal assault, and knocked on the door.  
“I have told you twenty four times now Mrs. Hudson to leave me alone! My mind does not require nourishment. I am at a critical juncture in my planning and I require nothing from you.” A deep baritone voice responded.  
“It’s not Mrs. Hudson” was all that she could think to say.  
She was shocked when he opened the door.  
“Molly.” His stormy blue-green eyes, swept over her. “And in a costume?” his eyebrow raised  
“It’s Halloween Sherlock” Molly said, her voice sounding much more tired than she felt.  
“Ah. Yes. I suppose it is.” He responded, opening the door wider. He looked like shit. She had seen him look worse. She was shocked he was speaking in coherent sentences.  
“Sherlock. Are you..” she began  
“Molly, a good rule when it comes to asking questions and making inferences is to not ask a question you don’t want the answer to.” He cut her off.  
“Are you high right now?” Molly continued.  
He opened the door to his flat wider. “At this exact moment I am minimally under the influence. Please. Come in.”  
Molly walked into his flat. Books were strewn everywhere. Photos and maps tacked to the wall. He was clearly in the middle of a case. Always with the damn cases. Always ruining himself and ruining other people. FOR THE DAMN CASES. She found herself growing angry.  
She realized then that she was still holding the tray she had been sent in with.  
“Biscuits?” she asked through he gritted teeth.  
“Oh just save us the trouble and throw them.”  
“Excuse me?” Molly replied.  
“You’re angry with me. The last time I was using you slapped me. Three times to be precise. So get it out of your system so we can move forward.” He countered, calmly.  
“Why. Is. Everything. A goddamned game with you!?” Molly responded, her voice starting to rise.  
“Oh I assure you that this is a matter of like and death.”  
“Yes. Sherlock. Yours! If you keep on like this you will die!” Molly was yelling now, and felt the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She slammed the tray down on the nearest table. “Don’t you care about that?”  
“I do not believe this will kill me Molly. I am very careful with the amounts I take. This is for a case. A life will be saved.” Sherlock had walked towards her as he was speaking, now arm’s reach away. “Please. Just trust me.”  
“Do you know how many bodies I have to cut into every week because somebody thought they knew they could handle it? People who OD? People who drive drunk? No one ever thinks it can happen to them. But since you’re Sherlock fucking Holmes you won’t believe anyone other than yourself!” Molly was full blown screaming now. “And if you die from being a total idiot, because THAT is what you are acting like right now, what about John?”  
“John hates me right now.” Sherlock cut her off, his voice becoming shaky.  
“What about Mrs. Hudson? And Me? And what about Rosie? Hmmm? Your Goddaughter is downstairs while you are up here in your glorified crackhouse. You took an oath Sherlock. I know you don’t believe in God, but I can’t believe that the oath you took that day doesn’t mean something to you. Do not let that little girl lose another person Sherlock!” Molly had closed the distance between them now and was shaking with anger as she looked up at Sherlock. His façade was cracking.  
“Stop it!” he yelped “Please just stop it.” He pressed his fingers to his temples, and breathed deeply, trying to keep the tears back. “Molly. Just believe me when I say this. Trust me. What I am doing is for John. It is for Rosie. It is for.” His voice caught in his throat and cracked “Mary.”  
Molly found herself chest to chest with Sherlock. He was crying. Sherlock Holmes cried?  
He continued. “Just please,” he pulled Molly close, “please keep looking after Rosie and Mrs. Hudson. I know I’ve been rubbish since Mary died. So has John. You’ve kept everyone together. Please. Just a little longer. Things can be like they used to be.”  
Molly felt his hot, tears making the top of her head damp. She wrapped her arms around him. She had no idea what he was talking about. Seeing him like this scared her.  
Molly stood there, rubbing his back awkwardly. She had imagined moments like this, but never envisioned them happening like this. She wished she could tell him everything would be ok but she knew better. Things never just went ok for Sherlock Holmes. Murderers followed him around, people killed their friends, and sociopaths even tried to get her involved in their schemes. Molly sighed.  
“Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Please? Maybe I can help? I’ve helped before.” Molly offered.  
“I don’t want to involve you. You have Rosie to look after.” He responded quietly.  
“Me, Mrs. Hudson, and Harry all take turns. And I hate seeing you like this. Please. Let me help you.” Molly’s anger was starting to wane, replaced by a deep sadness for her friend who didn’t feel like he could share his burdens with anyone.  
“I need you to meet me with an ambulance at a house in Brixton next week. John will be there. There won’t be anything dangerous. Just show up ready to do doctor things.”  
“Sherlock? I’m a pathologist. John’s a doctor. Why would I need to be the one examining>”  
“John will still be angry and he won’t trust anyone else. Not for what you will need to do.” Sherlock responded.  
“What will I need to do?” Molly responded, peeling herself away from Sherlock, using every bit of self-restraint she possessed.  
Sherlock refused to make eye contact with her.  
“Sherlock?” Molly asked again, skepticism filling her voice.  
“I will be very…altered. You will need to do my bloodwork.”  
“Jesus Christ Sherlock. We just talked about this!” Molly felt the anger and the tears starting up again.  
“I will be doing this with or without your help Molly.” Sherlock said, his voice slowly regaining the smooth composure it normally had.  
Molly looked away. “Fine. But you should come down and see Rosie while you’re in your right mind. And Mrs. Hudson too. She’s worried to death about you.”  
“Molly I..”he started to protest.  
Molly held her hand up to silence him “No. You don’t get to keep making one sided deals with me. I’ve been your secret keeper before and I’ve never asked you for anything. You are going to march down there, you are going to apologize to Mrs. Hudson, you are going to play with Rosie and see how adorable she is dressed up for Halloween, and you are going to take our picture together because I want a damn picture of me and my Goddaughter and you will not complain about any of it.”  
Sherlock stood there, realizing he had nothing to argue with. She was right. She had been a supportive friend and ally to him all these years. A constant source of stability and friendship.  
“Right. Let’s go. By the way, what exactly are you supposed to be? That wig is damn itchy.”  
Molly gave a small smile, it was all she could muster given the solemnity of their discussion.  
“It’s from a Disney movie.” Molly responded quietly.  
“I have no idea what that means.”  
They went downstairs and had tea with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock let her fuss over him lie he hadn’t since Mary died. Sherlock played peekaboo with Rosie and snapped some photos of Molly and Rosie as Anna and Elsa. Mrs. Hudson insisted on taking one of the three of them. In the photo, Molly is holding Rosie, Sherlock has his arm around Molly. Sherlock covertly sent a copy to himself from Mrs. Hudson’s phone and looks at it all the time. He knows in two weeks, everything will change again. What he doesn’t know is: an east wind is coming. 

\-------------------------------

Halloween this year

 

Molly walked around her apartment, pacing anxiously. She stepped into her bedroom, turning to her full length mirror on the wardrobe. She fussed about with the skirt, reaching underneath to lay the petticoat flat. There. Now she looked like a proper lady. Another Halloween. Another year alone. Well, maybe not for much longer.  
She had received a mysterious package on her doorstep. Considering the craziness she had endured the past couple of years she likely would have called Greg to bring the bomb squad except she saw the gold filigree and the letters MH embossed on the tag. She rolled her eyes but had persuaded herself to take the package into her flat.  
She opened the box, first finding an envelope. It was an invitation to the Century Club in Soho, normally a member’s only club. A Halloween Ball was being held there in the theme of the Edgar Allen Poe’s Masque of the Red Death. Accompanying the invitation was a typed note from the desk of Mycroft Holmes. 

 

Dr. Hooper,  
I know this past year has been difficult for all of us. I also have heard that you quite enjoy Halloween. Please do me the honor of attending this ball in my stead. I will not use the invitation as I hate these sorts of things, but I do believe you would have a fun time. As always, take care of yourself, and thank you for always looking out for Sherlock.  
M. Holmes

 

Molly sighed. She didn’t have any plans. But Mycroft probably already knew that. The damn Holmes siblings knew everything about her. She continued through the box to find a beautiful dark red gown. Well. Fuck it. Why not?  
Molly sighed; second guessing her decision to go. She had spritzed herself with perfume, curled her hair and put it into a loose up-do after watching a youtube video. It didn’t look great, but it definitely looked more put together than normal. She had applied a small amount of makeup and packed her small clutch. Maybe she would just stay in. She wouldn’t know anyone there, and she would be forced to make awkward small talk with strangers. Morbid Molly. Ugh….  
At that last thought, she heard a knock on the door. Who on earth could that be? She wondered.  
She went to the door, and looked through the peephole. She saw the top of a woman’s head and opened it.  
It was Mycroft’s assistant.  
“Good evening Dr. Hooper. Mycroft sent me to get you and give you a ride to the party so you wouldn’t need to fuss with a cab.” Anthea said, head down the whole time, madly texting on her phone.  
“Oh. Um.. ok. Call me Molly, and let me grab my bag.” She replied.  
Anthea didn’t respond, she just kept texting. “Make sure you grab the invitation as well.”  
“Got it!” Molly yelled from the kitchen, grabbing her bag and a shawl.  
The two women got into a black town car and headed to Soho.

The car dropped Molly off in front of the Century Club. Clearly Mycroft knew she was going to second guess going and sent Anthea to ensure she went. Why the hell did he care so much? Molly had to admit, the entrance of the club looked really cool. There were hearses parked out front with skeletons perched in the driver’s seat. Fog machines were piping their fumes into the courtyard as the guests were lining up to show their invitations. Real ravens were all over; on the awning, in the courtyard, on the fake tombstones. This was awesome! Molly arrived at the doorman, he quickly scanned a qr code she hadn’t even seen.  
“Have a good time Molly.” Anthea looked up from her phone for a brief second and smiled.  
“Thank you” Molly responded, and exited the car. She had forgotten how much she did actually love Halloween. The past few had been so crappy, it was easy to forget, but seeing all the macabre decorations made her felt at home and looking forward to the ball.

The lobby was about half full. True to form, there were several smaller rooms off to the side, lit up in various shades of the rainbow, just as in Poe’s original work. Molly was fascinated, and spent the first hour walking through the different rooms, viewing the decorations, enjoying the different vibes that each room gave off.  
She was in the white room getting a drink when she heard it.  
“Molly.” A deep baritone voice, like liquid silk, spoke her name.  
Goddamned Mycroft Holmes.  
Molly slowly turned to see Sherlock, dressed in a tuxedo, staring intently at her.  
Ever since that phone call, things had been awkward. Well. More awkward. Once they returned, Molly had been taken for a debriefing session, her apartment turned upside down while they found several cameras, and searched for bombs. The Eurus situation had been explained to Molly, all of the tests the men had been forced to endure, including the one where Sherlock watched her in her kitchen as he agonizingly forced those words from her lips. It had all been so much. She had longed ot hear those words from his lips for so long, but never like that. Never forced. And not with cameras watching her, displaying her for Mycroft and John to see. God knows how long those cameras had been in there. Every sense of privacy she thought she had, had been violated. Molly had actually taken up Greg’s offer to stay at his place for a few weeks after, and he surprisingly was not a creep at all. It had taken her forever to feel safe in her apartment after that. Sherlock had been distant and busy following the Sherrinford incident. He had refocused himself on Eurus. On trying to fix his family. Molly could not fault him for that, but it also hadn’t left room for them to discuss what had happened.  
“Sherlock.” Molly returned his gaze. “Is this Myrcroft’s idea of a joke?” she asked, surprising herself with how cold her voice sounded.  
“I don’t believe my brother knows how to do that. I think this was his way of doing something thoughtful. You look lovely by the way. May I?” he gestured to her hand, took it in his and kissed the top of it.  
Molly stepped out of the drink line, “What are you doing here? You don’t like parties.” Molly deflected.  
“No? I suppose I don’t. But, I do like Edgar Allen Poe, I do like dancing, and I do like you. So that seems like a winning combination to me.”  
“If this is your idea of another way you and one of your siblings fucking with me, you can forget it.” Molly responded.  
“Molly.” Sherlock still held her hand in his, he moved himself closer to her. “I am not joking about any of it. And I wasn’t joking that day on the phone. I meant what I said.”  
Molly stood there. Her cheeks heated. That day. She had replayed him saying those words to her over and over again. The whole thing was both like a dream come true and a nightmare simultaneously.  
“How can you say something like that and then disappear for months? Hmm? That’s what I don’t understand. How can you tell me you love me, make me say it, and then act like It never happened for months?” Molly asked, letting the words that she had held in all these months come flowing out.  
“Walk with me, Molly. Please.” Sherlock countered. He led her back into the atrium, where classical music was being mixed with modern to form an interesting waltz. Sherlock took her hand, and put his other hand on her waste.  
“It was important to me to make sure that Eurus wasn’t a threat any more before I pursued anything further with you. She threatened to kill you right in front of me. And I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t do it regardless. We played by the rules for the two previous games, and she still murdered everyone involved. I thought she was going to kill you. And if you died, I selfishly wanted you to say those words to me. So I could relive them in my mind palace for the rest of my miserable life.”  
“Sherlock. Oh my God. I didn’t know that she killed everyone else no matter what. I was only given the basics. Oh my God. I’m so sorry you had to see all of that.” Molly had moved her one arm off his shoulder and was cupping his face.  
“I was shocked she didn’t kill you. And I will admit, I was even shocked myself when I realized that I also love you. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, I just didn’t understand what it meant. And I was afraid. But nothing made me as afraid as when I thought you were going to die.” Sherlock rested his face on her hand. Molly stood on her toes, and reached up to kiss Sherlock.  
It was such a tender thing. Like a question. His lips pressed back against hers. At that she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, framing his head with her hands, intensifying their kiss.  
“Molly.” Sherlock whispered as he gently pulled back. “Forgive me. I have and always will be rubbish for you. But I am learning to be a better person. Please let me be your person.”  
Molly smiled, blinked back some tears. “Sherlock, you’re already my person.” She pulled him down for another kiss. The two of them became lost in each other; it would have been rather distasteful if not for the darkness of the Halloween mood lighting. Molly made a mental note to send Mycroft a thank you card.  
Molly finally broke away from their kissing session. Sherlock breathed heavily.  
“Sherlock. I just need to know one thing?”  
“Of course Molly, I want to be an open book. No more secrets.” Sherlock bent down to kiss her once more. It seemed as though this might be his newest addiction. Molly gently pulled away.  
“What is your costume?” Molly asked, with a sly grin.  
“Hmm..” Sherlock thought for a moment. “How about, Molly Hooper’s boyfriend?”  
Molly answered him with a kiss.


End file.
